


Behind Those Walls

by Barricade_Boys



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Drunk Grantaire, Enjolras Being An Idiot, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, M/M, Oblivious Grantaire, Pining Grantaire, Pre-Barricade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 12:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barricade_Boys/pseuds/Barricade_Boys
Summary: Enjolras always prided himself in being reserved. He had barriers in place for a reason. But one night, at a meeting in the Café de l'ABC meeting of Les Amis, Grantaire attempts to break down those walls of their leader in a drunken state.Grantaire argues that he may be a cynic, but he has one exception to his belief.Enjolras' inability to express his emotions is broken down in front of the members of Les Amis, his feelings being brought out into the open to be exposed.In which Grantaire picks at the man he adores, and Enjolras tries his best to become a better man for his Grantaire.





	Behind Those Walls

***

Grantaire's eyes struggled to stay open, his face scrunching at the sound of his friend's voice. He had been late to the meeting, again. It was becoming a regular occurrence for him to be late to meetings. 

Grantaire squinted his eyes, his mind trying to comprehend the words being spoken by their leader. His apollo. Enjolras, the blonde haired angel that owed Grantaire nothing, the man that Grantaire believed in beyond anything else. 

His eyes began to close, his hand catching his head in a mush, his hair falling in front of his eyes and his face planting heavily on the tabletop. 

"Sorry Grantaire, am I sending you off to bed?" Enjolras inquired, his tone condescending and cruel. He had stopped the meeting to personally have an argument with the smaller man.

"No, I apologise for the distraction, your heighness." Grantaire smirked. He could feel the daggers of every member of Les Amis' eyes burning into him, his voice small. "It will not happen again." He stood to his feet and bowed, sarcastically. 

Enjolras swallowed hard, his eyes squinting and his arms crossing over his broad chest. He shook his head and sighed, his voice becoming harsh. 

"Is this all a game to you?" Enjolras gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched. "Are you incapable of taking even one thing serious?"

Grantaire had become accustomed to Enjolras' bullying and his constant attempts to put the brunette down. He had seen Enjolras in this furious state more times than he could count, he always being the cause of Enjolras' fury. 

"Yes, perhaps." Grantaire smirked, not taking his eyes off the man standing tall above him in a patronising manner. "But I know how to take a joke, and I know how to have a little bit of fun." 

"Nothing about the poverty of thousands in this country is a 'joke', Grantaire. Are you really so cynical that you truly believe we are not being serious about this cause?" Enjolras leant over the older man, his scent lumbering over him. He shuffled, awkwardly, in his seat and wriggled out from the position. 

"No, of course not. But I am cynical about your motivations for this cause." He lied, he was not a cynic for Enjolras. In fact, Enjolras was the only matter that Grantaire was not a cynic for. He truly believed in his belief, he was infatuated and inspired by that. 

Enjolras huffed, his arms unfolding at last. Grantaire prepared himself for a verbal attack, expecting Enjolras to, and not for the first time, call him 'worthless', or 'a child', or 'dim', or a 'waste of space'. 

Enjolras' body leapt onto the table, his weight balancing perfectly against the wood. 

"Grantaire here, our in house cynic, does not understand my ambition for change in this country." Enjolras declared, his voice leathered with painful stabs of pessimism. "Myself, Enjolras, believe in a France without the torturous demameanor of those who can not even afford a loaf of bread. I believe in a better world for everyone, one in which the monarchy are demolished so a public state can be set in place to bring around justice to all." 

Grantaire twiddled his thumbs, his mind racing. Enjolras was patronising him in front of everyone. 

"Please, go from here if you do not feel the same. Excuse yourself from this meeting amongst friends if you believe that those with money and power should have the right to belittle those below them." Enjolras welcomed his exit. 

Grantaire shuddered, the very thought of his next action already haunting him. He stood up and walked to the table. 

"I am lesser than you are." He said, his tone steady and standing below the blonde in red. "And yet, here you stand, above me, belittling me in front of our friends." Grantaire didn't dare look up at their leader, already feeling the remorseless smirk that had plastered on his perfectly shaped lips. 

Instead, Enjolras jumped down from the table and stood before Grantaire, his hand lifting Grantaire's head so that their eyes met. Grantaire could barely breathe, this man was perfection personified. The red complimented his features, bouncing off his curls with heart rendering grace.

"We are equal." Enjolras said, plainly, not feeling the need for other words. 

Grantaire wanted nothing more than to fall in on himself, to collapse into a small hole and never return to see the light of day again. This was humiliating. Yet, Enjolras was shaken. 

"Excuse me." Enjolras said, feeling as though his feet could breakdown and see him fall on the floor. He exited the room and walked outside into the cold air, the brassy atmosphere making him shiver. 

"Congratulations, Grantaire." Feuilly rolled his eyes, his body turning away from the drunken artist. Grantaire shuffled. 

"I hardly expected that, did I?" He said, his voice mousy. Every member of Les Amis sat around in silence, unable to comprehend the idea that Grantaire had finally broken down Enjolras' wall. Of all people, he was the least likely one to do it. 

"No, but you kept clawing at the possibility." Jehan stated. "You could have left it." 

"Oh, come on!" Grantaire stomped his foot, his voice volumising and making the other men shudder. Courfeyrac took a swig of lager, his eyes tailing Grantaire. "You all sit in silence when Enjolras picks on me." He grabbed a bottle of red wine from the side and took a drink. "Why do you view him as untouchable? You are all aware of his tendency to pick on my flaws." 

"Because Grantaire, all you are good for here is putting a downer on our ideals and ideas." Feuilly clenched his fists. "We are all so terribly bored of your cynical views about everything. And your drinking, Christ, that makes it worse." 

Grantaire felt smaller than ever, then. His throat became dry. 

Combeferre clapped his hands. 

"Everyone, calm down." He ordered, his usually soothing voice becoming more controlling. He deepened his tone and said: "We all need to take a step back and calm down." 

"No, I will not be calm." Feuilly screeched, his voice loud. "I do not understand, and I never have, why you hang around Grantaire." 

The man in the green waistcoat stammered, unable to think of a liable reason why why he did stick around. He did not care for the cause. The Monarchy would slowly burn themselves out. Of course, he stuck around for Enjolras because he was infatuated. But he could not tell Les Amis that. He could not even tell himself that without feeling daft. 

"You come here and you drink, you drink more heavily than us all put together. And then you question Enjolras as if your opinion is more important than the rest of our's." Feuilly continued. Combeferre shook his head, knowing this was not going to end well. 

Courfeyrac pulled Feuilly back, his light hands being no match for the taller, broader man. 

"Get your hands off of me." Feuilly threw Courfeyrac's hands off his arms, his body launching forwards towards Grantaire. "Why can you not just leave us to it?" 

Grantaire sighed, feeling defeated. He put his hands up in surrender and nodded.

"You believe in nothing. So why come?" Feuilly threw the last blow, making Grantaire sink even lower. 

"Okay, alright." He said. "You have made your point." 

"I should hope so." Feuilly frowned, crossing his arms. 

"I will go." Grantaire said. "And I will not come back. But know this, I do believe in something. I believe that Enjolras will be the man to bring change. I believe that he is a better man than I ever will be. And I believe that he will be the one to bring change in this damned country." 

Enjolras' eyes saddened listening to Grantaire's words. 

"You all believe me to be a cynic, however, Enjolras is the only exception of my belief. Enjolras is selfless and I know and believe that his heart is in the right place, he believes in change so much that he lacks compassion towards other people. But I also understand that he does not mean to do that." Grantaire continued to speak his mind, his barriers breaking down. "And I admire that. So thank you all for proving that I am not needed here in this. I will be going now." 

He took one last look at the men in front of him, feeling embarrassed to be getting pushed out of the only positive thing in his life. He had messed it up again. He spun on his heels and bumped straight into Enjolras. 

Enjolras looked directly into Grantaire's eyes, forgetting his surroundings and the other people in the room. He swam in the blue iris of Grantaire's, his hand lifting to stroke the other man's face. 

Grantaire's breathing hitched.

Enjolras' forehead landed delicately against his own, his eyes looking straight into his. 

"I need you here." Enjolras' mouth whispered, his eyes closing. He had never felt so exposed. 

Grantaire swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. 

"Do you hear me?" Enjolras broke away from Grantaire, reaching for his hand and stepping onto a table again. "Grantaire is needed here because I need him here." 

Grantaire looked around Les Amis' dumbfounded faces, Feuilly looked infuriated. Combeferre was smiling like a puppy that had just been given a bone, Courfeyrac was nodding in agreement and little Gavroche was clapping. 

"Hence, Grantaire, you stay." Enjolras turned to face him again, his mouth figgeting into a light smile. 

"Of course, for you." Grantaire said. 

Enjolras pulled the brunette into a tight hug, his insinuation making Grantaire feel warm. This was a man that despised human contact. This was Enjolras, who Grantaire loved with every piece of his being, the Enjolras that was so passionate for France that he never even looked at a woman. 

"I apologise." Enjolras whispered into Grantaire's ear, his other hand clasping around his head. "I do not know how to express my emotions." 

Grantaire laughed, looking down. 

"But I love you, Grantaire. You must stay." He told him.

Grantaire felt like melting there, felt like this was all a dream that he would have the horrible dead of waking up from. The blonde man clearly understood his disbelief as he pinched the older gentleman. 

"You are awake." He taunted, making Grantaire smile. 

***

Grantaire pinched himself again, he found himself sitting in Enjolras' living room. The flat of their leader was large, clearly showing his privelege. Though, unlike what he had expected, the man was unruly tidy. 

He was tidy. Things had specific places. But Grantaire had expected the man to have orders and things in neat, obsessive areas of the house. He expected his books to be organised alphabetically and his notes to be placed in folders. Rather, though, his books were thrown in random piles on the floor beside the book shelf rather than in it. And the notes were thrown everywhere on the desk in front of him. 

Enjolras had lit the fire before disappearing into the kitchen. It was still brass outside, Grantaire could barely feel his toes. He wrapped his arms around himself, the cuffs of his shirt dangling free from his flesh. If he was honest, he was unsure why he was here; in Enjolras' flat. Les Amis had all left to go to their own respective homes. 

"Are you still cold?" Enjolras called from the kitchen, his voice soothingly crisp. Grantaire glanced around at the walls of Enjolras' home. 

"A little." He admitted. "Though, these red tones on your walls are making it a little more bearable."

Of course Enjolras had painted red walls, he sniggered to himself. It was evidently his favourite colour. 

Enjolras' hair flowed behind him as he re-entered the room, bearing two mugs of liquid. He handed Grantaire one, his hands gentle. Enjolras then sat down beside Grantaire on the sofa, his legs crossing.

Grantaire inhaled the sweet scent of spices, his nose twinging at the smell. 

"I am aware of your love of wine." Enjolras spoke, retrospectively. "I wondered, have you ever tried mulled wine?" 

Grantaire's eyebrow cocked, his head tilting. 

"I am assuming this is 'mulled wine'."

"You assume correctly." Enjolras smiled. "It is a red wine, your favourite I know, spiced with cumin and raisons and heated in a saucepan." 

Grantaire smiled at the sentiment. 

"It smells wonderful." 

"I don't usually drink, myself." Enjolras stated, with a tinge of blush on his cheeks. 

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. 

"You are drinking alcohol?" He asked. "That does surprise me." He sniggered. 

"No, I can not lie. This is milk." He grinned, a slight tease in his tone. 

"It is not." 

"It is." Enjolras showed Grantaire his mug, filled with a white liquid. 

Grantaire laughed a little. 

"You are strange, Enjolras." He said. "If you do not drink, why do you have wine within your walls?" 

"This is Paris." Enjolras stated. "Red wine is everywhere." 

"You mean, you made this specifically for me?" 

Enjolras shrugged. 

"You are cold, are you not? And you are a wine drinker." 

Grantaire squinted his eyes. He was indeed both of those things. And Enjolras was everything he had hoped him to be. He was kind, caring and considerate. 

"What is with your love of red?" He inquired. 

Enjolras blinked at the older man, his eyes filled with admiration. 

"Red is the colour of the people." He explained. "Blue is the monarchy, we are red. We are the people." 

"But red also means liberty and freedom, does it not?" 

"That too." Enjolras' face softened.

"I like your flat." He smiled, handing Enjolras the first compliment of many. 

"And I like you." Enjolras smiled. 

Grantaire felt a flush of joy flaunt itself on his face in the form of a grin. Enjolras was soft. 

"I never expected you to be so endearing." Enjolras spoke again, opening his heart up to Grantaire. "In fact, I wanted to despise you." 

Grantaire laughed.

"But I could never. Tonight, I hurt you." Enjolras said. "I have been cruel beyond words can excuse. I have belittled you and made you feel worthless, I have made you feel like you are nothing." 

Grantaire nodded. He didn't want to admit it, but Enjolras had hurt him. He had done all of those things. 

"But I need you to know that I never meant a word." 

"Enjolras - you don't have to do this."

"Please be quiet, just for a little while." Enjolras pleaded with his eyes, them being big and blue. "I need to explain myself, or else I will never forgive myself." 

Grantaire nodded, inviting him to continue. 

"I am a poisonous person." Enjolras started, making Grantaire open his mouth. "Grantaire, let me speak." He laughed. "Please." Grantaire nodded, again, this time remaining quiet. "I am poisonous. I never thought that I would have the ability to love anything more than France. I have been infatuated with justice for so long that I forgot how to care for anything other than the cause." His voice was filled with sincerity. "For that reason, I do not know how to manage my emotions." 

Grantaire took hold of Enjolras' hand, entangling his fingers within the other man's. 

"You, Grantaire, and only you, have made my heart flutter, you have broken down my walls." Enjolras admitted. "And I admire you." 

Grantaire shuffled closed to Enjolras. 

"And I love you." He spoke again. 

Grantaire placed his wine down and climbed atop of Enjolras' body, his legs wrapping delicately around the other's. He planted a light kiss on Enjolras' mouth, of which was not enough for the blonde. He forced himself to fall backwards, his back touching the cold, marble floor. He opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by Grantaire's tongue, it entering his mouth with desperation.

Enjolras' fingers ran through Grantaire's hair, his mouth aching for more. He orchestrated his fingers to flow down the man's spine and find their way to the older man's buttons, undoing them and ripping his shirt off. 

"Sorry!" He screamed, feeling the fabric tear. Grantaire snickered, his hands undoing the tie of Enjolras' shirt. He pulled the shirt from his torso, tracing the lines of his muscles.

Grantaire caught his breath, his mind racing. Enjolras clutched him closer, pulling him down to his chest so that their flesh was touching.

Enjolras' voice hitched in his mouth as Grantaire moved down his body, kissing his bare chest. Enjolras' skin was smooth, no hairs to be found anywhere. Grantaire had a fair few hairs grippled on his chest. 

"Grantaire-" Enjolras moaned, standing up to his feet, making Grantaire roll onto the floor. Enjolras helped him up. "Sorry." He apologised again, taking his hand and pulling him into the bedroom. 

Grantaire glanced at the bed, it was large. He had half expected a single bed for Enjolras, someone so bothered about the lower classes not having even a single bed. The duvet was soft, he thought, as he lay his bare skin against the cloth. Enjolras climbed into the bed after Grantaire, his arms instantly wrapping themselves around the smaller man. 

"Grantaire, I want to ask you something." Enjolras said, breaking the kiss. Grantaire glared at him with enthusiasm. "I want you to think about it first, of course. But-"

"Ask me." Grantaire said, laughing internally at the other man's awkwardness. He was never an awkward man, that was why it was so funny to him. 

"Would you like to move in with me?" Enjolras asked, his heart thumping heavily. 

Grantaire bit his lip, involuntarily. He grinned, exposing his crooked yet pearly white teeth. 

"Only, this bed is too big for just myself. And that wine cupboard will not empty itself."

Enjolras, though an idiot when it came to love, had bought this flat recently. He had lived in a box room. But he bought this flat for he and Grantaire. 

"Of course I will." Grantaire threw his lips upon Enjolras' again. 

"I am infatuated by you, Grantaire, my love." 

***

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I adored writing this story. Their dynamics are so beautiful and I love their relationship. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did!
> 
> Thank you for reading this far. Enjolras and Grantaire are my favourite ship. They are made for one another and they complete the other. They're wonderful people to write about.


End file.
